In Your Eyes, I'd Like to Stay
by BeamMeDownCastiel
Summary: Bucky seeks help from someone he knows will understand. WinterWidow one shot fluff no smut. Written for themischiefunderyourbed.


Bucky spent all of his time at Natasha's apartment. It was safe for him, tucked away at the top of New York City, hiding from any prying eyes. Officially, he didn't exist but that didn't stop people from looking for him. The first and second meetings between the two assassins were hostile events, but the third couldn't be more different.

It had been late at night. Bucky had left Washington DC and managed to buy a plane ticket to New York. It was in the airport where he saw the redhead. He remembered her face, something he was usually so bad at. But she stood out in his mind. She was beautiful, that was true. But she would also understand. Oh yes, he knew of The Black Widow. A literal lethal beauty, in search of her own salvation. If he couldn't make her understand, no one would. So, he followed her onto the plane, taking his seat a few rows back. He was inconspicuous, blended in well. He had acquired a set of normal clothes and changed in a gas station restroom.

The flight was a short one, during which Natasha simply sat and read whilst the man sitting next to her practically drooled on her shoulder. When they New York, it was the early hours of the morning. He followed her to the parking lot, expecting her to get into a car and drive away, but when she turned down an alley he was confused. He followed her, only to find she had disappeared. That was when alarm bells started ringing- and he braced himself, senses ready for an attack.

A slight rustle of clothing came from behind him, and he stepped out of the way just as the widow threw herself, legs aimed for his shoulder blades. She landed perfectly on her feet after doing a forward roll, and turned to face him with the fists clenched.

"You're supposed to be gone."

"I'm supposed to be dead."

"I won't argue with that."

When Natasha saw he hadn't thrown his guard up or readied his stance for another attack, she relaxed slightly. This wasn't the behavior of someone who wanted to attack her. Even people who "just wanted to talk" were light on their feet. He was just standing there, staring at her.

"Why are you following me?"

"I was hoping you could help me." He said in his blunt, mechanical voice.

"Why should I trust you?"

"I never said you should." Again, he surprised her. His apparent brute honesty made her more willing to listen. Plus, she had outsmarted him before, who's to say she couldn't again.

"Fine, come with me."

The pair emerged from the ally, got into a cab and drove to Natasha's apartment in silence. It had been given to her as a present. Unfortunately, the man that gave it to her died several days after. They climbed the stairs in silence, too. Neither of them wanted to say anything, recent events considered. Not to mention they had never spoken before, so idle chitchat wasn't much of an option. Natasha unlocked the door and gestured for him to enter.

The apartment was spacious, modern. Ceiling to floor windows replaced the walls to his left and in front of him. A large living room with black leather sofa's greeted him, with a kitchen to his right. Next to the kitchen, towards the back of the apartment were two doors. He assumed one lead to the bedroom and the other to the bathroom. One thing that stood out, however, was a large black-varnished piano on a platform at the far end of the apartment.

"Do you play?"

"A little. But I don't think that's why you're here."

"It's not." He walked over to the piano, gliding his human hand over the smooth surface. His reflection stared back at him, grubby and unkempt. Natasha was fascinated by his behavior, and walked over to him.

"What do you want help with?" She asked cautiously, standing by his side and studying his features closely.

"I need to get back into the world. I need… to be saved. You understand."

Yes, she did understand. Just like he knew she would. Suddenly he wasn't the man who shot her anymore, he was just a lost soldier. Empty, alone, confused. And she pitied him.

"What can I do about that?" This time he turned to face her full on, his expression blank bar those eyes that bore into her own, pleading for his life.

"Let me stay here. I don't know who will come for me, but they won't look for me here."

It was a big ask. She didn't reply for a long time, thinking over his request.

"You want to use my apartment as a safe house?"

"Yes."

And ever since that night, he had. He'd been staying there for almost a month now. Some days Natasha would be with him the whole day, other times he would be alone for a few days. But that didn't bother him. Most days he just sat around, occasionally watching something on the TV. He was particularly fond of a program on NBC with a man called Jimmy. It was on late, but he didn't sleep much at night. Due to Natasha's schedule, he slept when she was away, whether it was during the day or when she was out of town.

Most nights she would come home to find a meal prepared for her, which was Bucky's way of thanking her, and he would be sat at the piano. The music he played was beautiful, quiet. Over the time he had been with her, she had grown to be very fond of him. Once he had cleaned himself up, she had discovered he was really quite attractive.

The first time Bucky used the shower would forever be in Natasha's memory. She showed him around her apartment and explained to him, unnecessarily, how to use the electronics. When she showed him the bathroom he decided he would use the shower straight away.

"Can I wash up?" Natasha nodded, walking out of the room to let him get on with it. She made herself a cup of coffee, assuming it would be a long night, when he attention was brought back to the bathroom. There had been a loud crash, followed by a groan. She ran back to the bathroom, to find Bucky had stripped down to nothing and accidentally pulled the shower from the wall.

"What the hell happened?"

"The knob got stuck, so I pulled it."

"Oh, god. I forgot to say… it does that sometimes. Sorry."

The look of dismay on his face as he stared at the shower controls, which were in the tight grasp of his metallic hand, made Natasha smile. Which then turned into laughter. He looked over at her, frowning, before it occurred to him that he was naked. His frowned deepened, so Natasha stopped laughing.

"Sorry. Why don't you have a bath instead?" She suggested, pointing to the taps. She walked into the room and put the plug in the hole before turning the water on. She ignored his naked body from her close proximity and left.

Bucky spent almost an hour in the bathroom, allowing Natasha to change into something more comfortable and watch some crappy sitcoms. When he emerged from the bathroom, a cloud of steam followed him. Natasha stood up, her eyes looking over his body quickly. He had a beautiful body; there was no denying it, despite the number of scars that covered him. The most noticeable were the ones that circled his arm, where the metal one had been shoved to replace the one that had been torn off. She tried not to stare, understanding how hard it was to have your body betray your past.

Natasha walked over to him, waving her hand for him to follow. She guided him to her bedroom, and picked out some clothes. They belonged to Clint, who often left his clothes at her apartment because of the amount of time they spent together. It was just easier for him to crash at her place after a mission, so that's what usually happened. Clint was probably around the same size as Bucky, too, so she passed him a pair of sweat pants and a t-shirt. She would go shopping for more clothes at some other time, but they would do for now.

Bucky was just as fond of Natasha as she was of him, as it turned out. This night, he had decided to wait for her to come home. The key turned in the lock at around midnight, and he stood up from the couch to greet her.

"Hi," the greeting was simple but it was still more than he normally offered.

"Morning."

"How was work?" Ever since SHIELD was destroyed, Natasha had been working part time for the CIA. Nothing too big, but still enough to keep her busy. Money would never be an issue for her again.

"Fine. It turns out someone wrecked the Captain America exhibit."

"Sorry."

"I thought you might be." Natasha smiled, shaking her head. With a yawn, she began to walk to the bedroom, but was stopped by Bucky catching her arm. She looked up at him with alarm, her body tensing, but his expression didn't betray any form of threat. In fact it looked… gentle. Her alarm turned to confusion.

"What're you doing?"

"Natasha, I just wanted to thank you. For everything you have done for me, you didn't have to."

"Its okay, really-"

"I know, just… Let me do this. Please." It wasn't a request, more a command. Natasha's eyes flicked between his, her brow furrowed. Bucky's eyes scanned her face, before he leaned closer and pressed his soft lips to hers. She turned so her body faced his, kissing him back. Her hands glided up his arms to his neck, where she pulled his body closer to her own.

The kiss was passionate, as if it had been bottled in their systems for too long. It was over too soon, when Natasha pulled away. Her face was an inch away from his, and the pair was left panting.

"Oh." She said simply.

"Yeah."

"Sleep with me tonight?"

"Natasha, I…"

"Not sex. Just stay with me." She explained. When he nodded, she smiled, slipping her hand into his to guide him to her bedroom. She changed in the bathroom, and emerged to find him sitting on the edge of her bed. It was a warm night, so she wore only her underwear and a vest, which revealed the circular scar on her hip. Bucky stared at it, his brow furrowed. Natasha looked to what he was staring at with confusion.

"Did I do that?" He had a vague memory of a red haired woman and an overturned car. Piecing the evidence together wasn't difficult.

"Yeah, you did," his face fell. "But don't worry, it's long healed."

"But I still hurt you."

"You did, yes."

"And you still took me in?"

"Yes."

Bucky swallowed hard. He lifted his hand up for her to take it, which she did with tentative movements. When Natasha was close, he pulled her close to examine the scar, his hands at the top of her thighs. She was, once more, taken aback by his sudden intimacy. He dragged two fingers across the scar slowly, tracing each singular line, before pressing his lips to it. The action caused Natasha's heart to flutter, but she didn't stop him.

He stood up, sliding his hands up her body as he did so.

"I'm sorry." Bucky whispered, and Natasha smiled. She pushed herself up onto the balls of her feet and kissed him again.

"Don't worry about it."

She moved around the side of her bed, climbing under the covers and patting the mattress for him to join her. He did so, sliding in next to her, and pulled her into his chest. They fit together perfectly, the embrace almost like it was meant to be. Slowly, Natasha fell asleep. Bucky listened as her breathing became shallower. He tightened his grip on the sleeping widow and pressed a kiss to her forehead. That was when he realized he never wanted to be away from her, that he wanted to be with her always. And he knew that she felt the same.


End file.
